Not My Best
by DeniseV
Summary: Vin's not been at his best of late, and Ezra seems to be the target of his discontent.


"Jest don't tell Nathan."

"Mistah Tanner, there are many things you can confide in me that Ah will keep just between we two, but you must understand that your ill health is not one of them."

"Yer kiddin'. All those times I never told Nate 'bout you bein' hurt or sick or tryin' to leave the clinic early?"

"Firstly, you are the proverbial pot callin' the kettle black in each one of those points. Secondly, no doubt you comprehend how this might be a different situa … "

"Not really," Vin said, cutting the gambler off and making it very clear that he expected his friend to keep his newfound knowledge to himself.

"Vin, you are recovering from a serious gunshot wound. Mistah Jackson only released you from his direct care the day before yesterday. And from what Ah can tell, you are sufferin' from fever."

"Told ya I was headed to sleep," the tracker tried to explain.

"And Ah am tellin' you that you will take that rest in Nathan's clinic."

"Ain't gonna."

"Ah believe you will."

"Lookin' forward to seein' how yer gonna make that happen," Vin said as he stepped around Ezra to get from the privy back into the saloon. That the most direct route back to the former bounty hunter's two abodes – his wagon and the room he infrequently used at the boarding house – was down the alley and not through the drinking establishment exposed quite clearly Vin's deception, or attempt thereof.

"Ah should think that goin' directly to Nathan and apprising him of your condition would be the easiest and most logical course of action at this time."

"I ain't doin' that, and you'll be sorry if you do," Vin warned.

"Ah think not."

The two friends stared each other down but Ezra folded first, seeing no point in delaying Vin's final destination: Nathan Jackson's clinic. The tracker was sweating like a pig, he should be in bed.

The professional poker player, with a great flourish, waved his arm before the Texan and said, "Aftah you." The buckskin-clad man gave Ezra an unpleasant smirk and stepped into the back entrance of the former Standish Tavern. They made their way from the rear hallway and into the saloon when Vin slowed to a stop. Ezra joined his friend and chuckled lightly at what he saw.

"Well, well," the southerner said with a sly smile, "it appears that disseminatin' mah knowledge to our fine healer will be easier than Ah thought."

"I'm warnin' ya, don't do it, Ezra."

"Yes, you have now threatened me twice. Surely you realize that your warnings carry no weight at all opposite the hell Ah would suffer should Chris learn that Ah allowed you to walk around with a high temperature, and your condition worsened? No suh. Your threats are fallin' on deaf ears this evenin'."

"Yer funeral," Vin mumbled as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

"Mistah Jackson," Ezra called as he headed for the table where the healer Nathan Jackson sat with the former gunslinger Chris Larabee and the gunman and renowned ladies' man Buck Wilmington. They were well into their midday meals as each man turned to see Ezra Standish and Vin Tanner headed their way.

"Hey fellas. You should join us. Inez has the best special today," Buck said.

"Ah trust that we are discussin' mah amor's outstanding cooking skills," the gambler joked with the former Texas Ranger. With Buck, there was no guarantee that was so.

"That's the only special I got first-hand knowledge on, hoss."

"Good. And yes, Inez told me what she would be preparin' for today's luncheon. Ah have been lookin' forward to tryin' it mahself." Vin had taken a seat next to Chris and opposite Nathan. "But first Ah must impart to Nathan some bad news about our compatriot's unfortunate symptoms."

Nathan looked to Vin with a careful eye. "You got a fever?" he asked. Ezra, his work complete, took his seat between Nathan and Buck.

"Yeah."

"How long?" the former slave asked. Vin looked away but Nathan wasn't much impressed with the obvious attempts at delaying his answer. "How long?" he asked as he looked hard at Vin and then turned to Ezra for an response.

"Ah do not have the answer you seek. Ah can only say that Ah mahself came upon this information only fifteen minutes ago."

"Vin?" Chris asked.

"Hell," the tracker said. "Woke up 'bout three this mornin'."

"You've had a fever since three this morning? You've gone near ten hours not treating a fever? Did you think maybe there might be something causin' that fever?" Nathan asked as he stood from his chair.

"Sit down and finish yer food. I kin wait another few minutes … " Vin returned but was interrupted by the healer.

"Vin, I know you're smarter than this."

"Nate," Buck said in an attempt to calm his friend. "Ten more minutes ain't gonna make any difference."

"Well, now that the disposition of our accomplished tracker has been settled, Ah believe Ah could enjoy a nice afternoon repast."

"Shut up, Ezra," Vin said.

"Ah don't see what your justification is for bein' cross with me, Vin. Ah am only lookin' out for your well-bein'."

"This changes things," Chris said, looking to his long-haired friend.

"Reckon," Vin agreed,

"Guess you're comin' with me," Chris said.

Ezra was busy looking at the plate of food being set before him, as well as the pretty lady serving it. He flicked his napkin open with fanfare that likely only impressed himself and laid it on his lap. He watched Inez fill his coffee cup then reached for her hand, kissing it in a most gentlemanly manner. The gambler's and the Mexican beauty's eyes met, holding a passionate look just briefly as Inez nodded her head toward the other men at the table. She watched as Vin looked at her and then turned away quickly. She frowned as she headed back to the kitchen for Vin's plate.

Ezra looked over and saw all of his associates, save Vin, staring at him. "Did Ah miss somethin'?" he asked with a frown. "Ah admit to bein' occasionally distracted when Inez is in the room."

"Can't blame ya for that, Ez," Buck said kindly. "But in answer to your question, oh yeah, you missed somethin', all right," his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"What?"

"Since Vin's gonna be spending some more time at Nathan's, I'll need someone else to go with me to Cortez to fetch Jim Miner back for trial."

Ezra's expression changed quickly from confusion to extreme concern, but just as quickly his famous poker face was back in place. "Certainly Buck could accompany you on your journey."

"No can do partner," Buck said, still smiling. "I have to be in Eagle Bend for the trial, remember? Judge Travis is tryin' that fella who robbed the store, stole all those guns … and my horse."

Ezra snorted a sarcastic laugh. "All those guns was three – three guns – and you got your horse back when Clyde bucked the miscreant off."

"Don't mean he wasn't stole, Ezra," Buck replied. There was only one other person in Four Corners who cared about their horse even close to the way the gambler felt about Chaucer, and that was how the handsome gunman cared about Clyde.

"But … "

"Trial's on, Ezra," Chris said. "Judge'll take care of the trial in Eagle Bend, then he'll want to have Miner's trial the day after tomorrow."

Ezra's pretty green eyes appeared to grow the size of saucers. "But that … Ah mean … Why …." None of the other members of The Magnificent Seven sitting at the table had witnessed Ezra so tongue-tied in a good long time. They all knew he was stuck, with J.D. Dunne and Josiah Sanchez both out of town.

"Meet me at the livery at three," Chris said.

"Three?!" Ezra said, his voice catching at the not exactly manly shriek. That was a mere two hours away.

"Need to get there by ten tomorrow morning in order to get back here by dark. Means we have to make some time today."

Disgust oozed from the handsome countenance of the gambler. "Why on this good earth would you not have ventured out earlier today in order to arrive at your destination so that you would sleep in a bed tonight? And why would Vin have been lined up for this duty when he was just released from Nathan's care two days ago?" The former con man scowled at the healer.

"Don't look at me, Ezra. I get the feeling these two were tryin' to hide the fact that Vin was getting on a horse before waiting the full week that I told him to," Nathan said, no less annoyed than his southern friend.

"Told ya ta keep yer mouth shut, Ezra," the tracker said. He grinned as he swiped the perspiration from his fevered brow.

"Yes, Ah know. Ah suppose Ah will act per your threats the next time," Ezra replied with a put-upon tone.

"No you won't. You'll do the same thing you did this time 'cause it's the right thing to do," Nathan responded confidently.

"Mothah would be disappointed."

"Good," Chris and Buck said at the same time. The two old friends smiled at one another.

Ezra scowled at Chris. "Ah am quite disappointed in you, Mistah Larabee. Ah would not have expected you to be in collusion with our still-healin' compatriot."

"That's because I wasn't, was I Vin?"

"Nope," the former bounty hunter said, not one ounce of regret in the comeback.

"You gonna eat that Ez or ya just gonna let it go cold?" Buck asked, his own plate as clean as though Liver Eatin' Jones himself had licked it so.

"This turn of events has mah stomach turnin', but Ah suppose Ah should eat. Ah know that Inez worked hard puttin' together this meal."

"It's delicious," Buck said.

"Real good. One of the best she's made," Chris agreed.

"Then Ah will enjoy this meal, take a nap … "

"Take a nap? You ain't hardly been up a couple o' hours," Vin said critically

"Ah shall take a nap and meet you, Chris, at the livery at the appointed time," Ezra noted, ignoring the comment from Vin. Ezra took his first bite from his plate and said, "That is quite delectable." He took several more forkfuls, being sure to keep the piled-high fork within Vin's eyesight each time. He could tell that the man was feeling unwell and he did not feel the least inclined to hide the fact that he was enjoying his meal, which he certainly was. He knew that he'd been reading the feverish man correctly when Vin slapped his hand to his mouth, jumped from his seat, ran down the hall and out the back, in a rush to the outhouse, or at least out of the building.

"Pity," Ezra said, not actually feeling the word that he spoke. Inez joined them at the table at that moment.

"Where is Señor Vin?" she asked.

"Just set that in front of Buck, mah dear," Ezra said. "And might Ah add, this is a most scrumptious meal, Inez."

"Gracias," she said as she leaned in for a quick kiss. He whispered into her ear. She looked over to Chris with a frown and then whispered back, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear, and the tracker returning to the table. "Sí. Two o'clock."

Chris offered a sly grin and said, "I thought you were napping."

Ezra shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth, as elegantly as possible, chewed quickly and said, "Ah am." He chugged the remainder of his coffee - it was, after all, more of a late breakfast than an early luncheon for the perpetual late riser – and added shrewdly, "A short one." He smiled, stood, wiped his mouth with his napkin, folded and left it on the table beside his plate. "Gentlemen," he said, tipping his hat to the men at the table at large and waltzed like one very lucky man up to his room.

* * *

"Bastard."

"You're just mad he tattled on ya," Buck said.

"He did the right thing," Nathan added as he carried the poultice over to the bed where Vin lay. "Ain't no way you couldn't feel this wound festerin'. Why didn't you come see me?" the healer asked, both worried and annoyed at the same time. Vin lay on his side, his arm up over his head. Nathan set the poultice up against the tracker's side. "Hold this, Chris," he said as he took the cloth bandages and started wrapping them around Vin's upper body, Buck lending a hand as the wrapping rounded the lean body.

Chris shook his head. "It don't make sense, why you did this, Vin." His friend remained silent, Chris hadn't asked him a question, after all. "You want to explain … "

"No."

The other three lawmen in the room were surprised by the heat in the reply.

"All right. How 'bout we try it this way. Do you care about the extra work you cause for Nathan when you ignore what was something that no sane person would ignore? I know you better than to think you got a death wish, Vin. Hell, we could all smell that the wound wasn't healing right as soon as you took off your coat."

Vin remained silent. Now it was Buck's turn to shake his head.

"You're gonna give Nate here a complex. He's bound to think you don't trust him when ya do stuff like this," the ladies' man said.

That comment got Vin's attention. He sighed as he accepted the devoted care Nathan took as the black man went through all of the steps gently as the healer was known for and said, "That ain't how I feel. Don't want ya ta think that. Ever," Vin added, looking to Nathan with sorrowful eyes.

"I don't."

"Buck's right, though. You must think I ain't grateful for all ya do."

"I don't think that," Nathan said in a calm manner as he tied off the wrapping. "Go ahead and lay down, get comfortable. I'm gonna get that tea." The former slave stood, patted Vin affectionately on his chest and headed for the stove.

Chris started to ask his question again, but Vin cut him off before he got started.

"It ain't nothin' more 'n' wantin' ta get out o' town for a while. And Ezra … " Vin started, but stopped quickly.

"Ezra? He vexin you?" Nathan asked as he handed the mug to Vin.

"What'd he do?" Chris demanded.

"Aw, hell, he didn't do nothin'. He jest makes me mad when he walks around like that."

"Uh, Vin? Walks around like what?" Buck asked.

"Like he don't hurt."

Buck and Chris now sported furrowed brows as they looked at one another, trying to figure what Vin was trying to say. Nathan rolled his eyes and went to his table to clean up the herbs he'd used for the poultice.

"But he ain't hurt," Buck returned, confused.

"I know."

"You're mad at him 'cause he ain't hurt?" Chris said, hoping that by saying it back it might bring some clarity to the situation. It didn't.

"Reckon I am. Know it ain't right."

Nathan returned, seeming to tower over his patient. "You know he's had a lot of hurt and sickness this last year," he said.

"I know. I told ya I know it ain't right."

Buck gave his friend on the bed a sidelong glance, his eyes slits as he tried to digest what he was hearing from the tracker. Vin caught the mustachioed man assessing him, and looked away. Buck grinned sadly, shook his head and said, "You're lookin' kind o' green there, Vin."

"Already done that."

"That's not what I mean," Buck said. "Chris, Nate, I think our friend here isn't just upset 'bout Ez not bein' hurt." His grin showed his friends that he had figured out something they had not. He was basking in his discovery, but Chris wasn't apt to let that go on too long.

"What're you talking about, Buck?"

"Why I think Vin's upset 'bout that extra spring in his step these days."

"He already said he was," Nathan challenged.

"No, not because he's feeling good. This is the kind of spring ya get in your step when ya bound up the stairs for a delightful afternoon in bed with a beautiful woman."

Chris and Nathan each near pulled a muscle as they turned their heads to catch Vin's reaction. No reply and a decided pinking up of his cheeks told all of them that Buck's observations were right on the money.

"Don't tell me you got a thing for Inez," Chris said. "You know damn well Ezra can take you up close with a gun." Chris failed to say what he was thinking, that he feared Ezra might be good enough on his best day to best the notorious Chris Larabee. "He can also take you hand-to-hand."

"No he can't," Vin adamantly disagreed.

"Even if he can't, I ain't too keen on wiping one of ya up off the main street of town."

"And he can beat ya, mano-a-mano," Buck said, "'cause he'll cheat. If ya got feelings for Inez, you'd best figure out how to get rid of 'em."

"What?" Vin looked to Chris, finally realizing what they were saying. He'd been so focused on the fact that he could take Ezra in a fight that he missed the entire reason why his friends thought he might need to fight the southerner. "Hell, no! It ain't … I don't … it's just … "

"What are ya, twelve years old? Spit it the hell out!" Buck demanded.

"I … I was jest feelin' sorry fer myself and there's Ezra, happy, movin' like a damn dancer, wearin' them fancy clothes, ain't got a messed up body and … and … " Vin paused.

"And he gets to kiss the girl," Buck finished for him.

"He's doin' more than kissin' her. Even Nathan and I are jealous of that," Chris muttered.

"That's the truth." Distance for one, propriety for the other were keeping both men frustratingly frustrated.

"Tell ya what, Vin, once Nathan gives ya the all clear, why don't you and me head over to Miss Madeleine's. Chris and me, we took Ez there once, before Inez," Buck informed his friend. "Now that everyone but you 'n' me and J'siah got ourselves a steady girl, and some of my ladies here have moved on or settled down, may even get over there more regular."

"Ain't the same."

"Course it ain't the same, Vin," Nathan said. "Ain't supposed to be the same, but I'm pretty sure that's not the point," the kind healer added.

"It ain't," Buck said. "But look, Vin, if ya ain't interested, I'm happy to make the trip alone."

"Didn't say that."

"You'd be a fool if ya did," Chris said as he stood from his seat. "Time for me to go meet Ezra," he went on as he reached the door. "Behave for Nate, would ya?"

"Yeah, yeah," the long-haired Texan said, followed by a wide yawn.

"You gonna be all right ridin' with Ezra, old pard?"

"Figure he'll be in a damned good mood after this unexpected _liaison_."

"Nice word," Vin said, still no sign of amusement in the injured man. Chris just stared at him. As the atmosphere began to grow tense once more, Buck stood and announced his intentions.

"Speaking of liaisons, I got a little bit o' sweet waitin' on me."

"Just make sure Josiah's back."

"He is. Already saw him. He's gonna be at the jail … " Buck checked his watch, " … right now. That means you're late for Ezra, Chris."

"It'll do him good to have to wait." The leader of the Seven turned to his friends as Buck joined him at the door. "See you late tomorrow."

"Watch yer back, cowboy," Vin said, his eyes blinking slowly as he headed toward sleep.

* * *

"You are late."

"How's it feel?"

"As it afforded me a few more minutes to brush Chaucer's mane and tail and otherwise spend quality time with mah fine steed, ah have no complaints whatsoevah."

"Figures." And it really did. Chris had never known a more pampered horse, and it showed in the animal's coat, in the shimmer of Chaucer's mane and tail.

"Ah brushed Pony down as well. You need just tighten the cinch."

"Oh. Thanks. Not sure he needed it," Chris said with a frown. "How late am I?"

Ezra checked his watch as he put his grooming supplies away. "A full fifteen minutes."

"Really? Sorry 'bout that."

"Not at all. Ah was here at three o'clock sharp, no earlier than need be." The two men checked the cinches on their saddles and walked their horses to the livery exit while they talked. It was a warm afternoon, with cloud cover to protect them from the worst of the bright sun. It had been cloudy now for two straight days, unusual for this time of year. Even though the rains were a regular presence, they were usually guaranteed sunshine through much of the day on either side of a downpour.

"How was your … "

"Fine," Ezra answered before allowing the question to proceed. "Ah would say perfect, except for the time limitations."

"You're a lucky man, Ezra," Chris said as he mounted Pony. Ezra followed suit on his own horse.

"Ah am, indeed. Did you and Missus Travis … "

"No. Mary, well, she … she just wouldn't in the middle of the day."

"She wouldn't evah?" Ezra asked, surprised by the admission.

"Nope."

"Pity." And Ezra meant it this time.

"Yep."

The two lawmen and their horses headed north out of town. They would, not too long out of town, reach the Durango road, taking it in an easterly direction to Cortez. Chris quickly set a comfortably fast pace, as both men knew that they would make it three quarters of the way there before darkness set in. With the long summer days they would have a good five hours of daylight to make that distance. It was plenty of time, and that would give the horses a good long rest before making the rest of the distance in the morning. That rest would be especially important as tomorrow would be a very long day, though they would be sure to take it at a much slower pace.

Both Chris and Ezra seemed content to keep to themselves, save for the occasional humming from the card sharp. Chris found the tune pleasant … and somehow familiar. He was pretty sure it was something he had heard every once in a while when he'd visit with Maria in Purgatorio. They were taking a more leisurely stride to give the horses a break from the more aggressive pace from earlier. After what was easily the fifth or sixth time Ezra had hummed or whistled the tune all the way through, Chris asked about it.

"That song sounds familiar." Ezra didn't hear as he continued to hum happily, shuffling his cards with both hands as he allowed Chaucer to take them forward with little guidance. "Ezra!"

"Yes?"

"That song. It sounds familiar."

"Song? What … oh. Um, yes," the gambler replied, seemingly confused and definitely caught off guard, not only by the question but even by the fact that he'd been humming the tune.

"What is it? You've been whistling and humming it for near on two hours."

"Ah have?" The southerner's face flushed slightly but he hid it well as he turned away, composed himself, and said, "It is a Mexican folk song."

"I think I've heard it before. Down in … "

"Mistah Larabee, if Ah may ask. This song holds a special place in mah heart. Ah believe it is a well-known song in Señorita Rocios' home country. Ah know not the lyrics or its title. Indeed, Ah do not wish to. The mystery of the haunting melody is part of its charm." Ezra turned to Chris and asked pleadingly, "Do you understand?"

Chris did understand, but he knew that his friend, who he felt certain was exploring love for the first time, at least true love, or certainly for the first time in a very long time, did not want to hear that the song was something heard regularly in Purgatorio while Chris had gotten his fill with the working girl Maria. The former gunslinger understood, and he wouldn't spoil it for the southerner who might well be on the way to something permanent with the pretty lady from south of the border.

"I think I do."

"If it is conversation that interests you, tell me how Mistah Jackson fared with Vin."

"Huh," Chris started. Ezra sent him a curious look so the leader of Four Corners' lawmen quickly added, "Everything's fine. Nate cleaned the wound, it had started to go bad, put a new poultice on it. It was the right thing you did."

"Ah have no doubt Vin does not agree. He was quite aggravated that Ah ratted him out."

"Did he say that to you? That ain't exactly the right word for it."

"Perhaps."

Chris looked at his companion. He knew that Vin had been less than pleasant about being found out, and though he wasn't keen on talking about people behind their backs, he felt compelled to bring the former con man up to date on what he'd found out about Vin's behavior of late.

"You know Vin doesn't mean anything when he's … "

"Actin' in a most unpleasant manner, includin' slights on mah character?"

Chris shook his head. Ezra had every right to still harbor bad feelings from when the tracker was shot. He'd had no involvement with what happened at that end of town. The former con man was positioned where Chris asked him to be, just like everyone else. Not only had Ezra dispatched two of the six members of the gang to an early grave, he spent time talking to a young member of the group, no more than fourteen years old, convincing the boy to drop his weapon. The card sharp had a way with children, even children who were on the cusp of manhood. Once Vin heard about Ezra's time spent with the boy, he hinted that maybe the former con man's time might have been better spent covering their backs. Even when he'd found out later that the talk with the young man started at the moment Vin was hit and that all of his other brethren were closer to him in order to back him up, and that both Buck and Chris had taken care of two of the other men, injuring them and tying them up temporarily, leaving just one of the wanted men not captured, all proof that Ezra hadn't shirked his responsibilities in any way, Vin still couldn't be bothered, even to this day, with offering up an apology.

It had been an uncomfortable situation each time Ezra and Vin met since that day, despite all of the rest of the Seven's attempts to broker peace between the two.

"Yeah. Look, he said something today that might explain how he's been acting lately."

"Really?"

"I'm not sayin' he's right in how he's been to you, it just kind of makes sense, a little."

"Pray tell, what did our frontiersman say that might explain his aberrant behavior of late?"

"Seems Vin's kind of green with envy 'cause of what you've got."

Ezra furrowed his brow and then snickered lightly, putting his thumb to his lower lip, brushing it across as he pondered what Chris just said. He huffed an unamused laugh and asked, "Is he envious of the profusion of injuries Ah have sustained in performin' mah duties? Or maybe it is that, despite mah dreams to the contrary, Ah remain a mere customer of the former Standish Tavern and not its rightful owner? Or perhaps, in spite of all that Ah do to assist some of the store owners in town with their business plans and books, there remains a loud and influential few who perpetually castigate mah every action, forcin' good people to second guess their decision to trust me?"

"No, that's not … "

"No?" Ezra retorted loudly, harshly. He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed his fingers down to the tip of his nose and then straight back up to his scalp. He put his hand down and asked, "So, what is it that Vin said?"

Chris looked at Ezra worriedly. He could see the man had a headache coming on. He hoped it wouldn't be one of the bad ones that the gambler suffered on occasion. Being on the trail was not exactly stress free for this friend, ever. They all knew the best way for Ezra to suffer through one of those nasty headaches was rest, preferably on a comfortable bed – specifically his own – in a dark, cool room.

"You all right?" Chris asked.

"Yes." _No._ "Tell me."

"He's hurtin', you know." Ezra looked at Chris disdainfully. "Anyway, he said that between how you were movin' around so well and he wasn't, and that you got Inez, well … "

Ezra waited, the frown making his head hurt more. That couldn't be all that Chris would be saying on the subject. "Well?" Ezra encouraged.

Chris shook his head as they continued on their journey. "He's just jealous. Thinks you got everything good goin' for you while he's hurt, stuck at Nate's, doesn't have a girl."

Ezra snorted. "He's not likely to attract a woman with what he wears and that singular aroma."

"He don't smell like that all the time," Chris said in his friend's defense.

"Precisely." The two men kept riding as they both went silent. Finally, Ezra said, "He has no reason to be envious of me. Did you and Nathan explain that to him?"

"Not exactly, but I think he knows he's not thinkin' right on all of it. Buck's gonna try to get him out o' town for a couple o' days when he's feeling better."

"Buck? Well, that should do it," Ezra said with a smile as he fondly remembered the occasional trips to Miss Madeleine's brothel west of Cañon City.

Their near five hour ride put them within an easy two hour trip into Cortez. They were so close that Ezra would normally insist on continuing into town even if they would be arriving in the dark, but Chris could tell that, though Ezra didn't seem to be suffering from one of his sick headaches, he was definitely not feeling well. He was convinced to stop for the night as they found an abundant narrow spring. The water was high and moving fast … a good spot to stop. Chris heard an unmistakable grunt followed by a relieved sigh from his companion. He couldn't see Ezra, save for the crown of his hat above the saddle on his horse. Then he heard the same sounds he would soon be making: undoing his bedroll, slinging his saddlebags over his shoulder, loosening and removing the saddle, as well as all of the other parts of the normal routine of caring for an animal that worked so hard and so well for a man in this unforgiving Southwestern landscape. Chris heard another sigh, mixed with a groan, from the poker player.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Ah am feelin' rather exhausted, actually," Ezra admitted, a rarity for the gentleman from the south. "Ah look forward to some rest once Ah finish with Chaucer."

"Let me finish up for you. Pony appreciated the extra attention you gave him earlier today."

"He did?" the gambler asked as he continued caring for his horse. "Did he express these thoughts to you in some candid manner?"

"Ha, ha," Chris said as he watched the fancily dressed man finish up his duties with his horse. "No. I just, well, I appreciate it, on his behalf, of course," the tall blond said with a wry smile.

Ezra laughed lightly. "In that case, you are both welcome." Ezra had his saddle in one arm and the rest of his gear in the other as he walked toward the green grass nearby the water source. "Ah shall get a fire going." It was clear to Chris that Ezra was in a decided hurry to get settled for the evening.

"I'll be there in a few minutes. I'll go gather some firewood once I bring my things over," Chris noted.

"See if you can find some wild onion, maybe some sage. Marigold."

"Marigold?"

"No, you are correct. There is not liable to be any, and our meal does not really call for it," Ezra replied, as though Chris questioned the inclusion of the flower for some reason other than that it was a flower and who needed a vase of flowers in the camp out in the wilds of the west. There were few people in Four Corners who appreciated edible flowers, and Chris Larabee was not likely to be one of them.

"Our meal?"

"Indeed. Inez prepared something quickly for us, and Ah stopped in to procure some provisions at Gloria Potter's store. She had a strawberry-rhubarb pie, of which she kindly and carefully wrapped two large pieces, one for each of us."

Chris shook his head. He'd had plenty of time himself to make arrangements for their meal on the trail. He, after all, did not receive a send-off from Mary the likes of which Ezra enjoyed from Inez. And with Mary busy with the newspaper and Billy and other things that she felt required her undivided attention, he didn't have her coming to him with a nicely wrapped bundle of food. The gunslinger had done no more than check his bullets, and that a change of clothes and a fully stocked healing kit that Nathan made sure each of them carried were complete and in his saddlebags.

Oh, and he'd checked that the beef jerky and the can of beans he hadn't used on his last trip out were still in the saddlebag where he'd left them.

"What're we eating?" he asked, happy that the 'meal' he had brought with him would stay in the saddlebags once more.

"Ah believe Ah shall keep that knowledge close to mah vest. Suffice to say the food Inez prepared for our midday meal today was in the same league."

Chris nodded. "Then that _will_ be something to look forward to." The men shared a smile, then Chris added, "Firewood, wild onions, sage. Marigold if I can find it. Anything else?"

"That will do. Oh, here," the card sharp said as he tossed first one apple and then a second to Chris. "Our mounts deserve a treat."

There was no denying that.

* * *

"Welcome back, John Dunne."

"Hey, J'siah. Everything all right?"

"Been quiet."

"That's good."

"I'd say so," Josiah said as he grabbed a bottle and a glass and walked with J.D. to a table. "How are Nettie and Casey?" the former preacher and still Four Corners' only man of the cloth asked.

"Casey's good. Nettie says her rheumatism's actin' up. She wasn't movin' so good today."

"We're all gettin' older. I know I'm feelin' more aches and pains every day." The big man looked with concern at his young friend. J.D. seemed particularly worried. "Think we ought to send Nate out there?"

J.D. shrugged his shoulder. "Don't think she'd appreciate me talkin' about her behind her back, but I do think it would be good for him to get out to see her." The youngest of the Seven took a swallow from his mug of beer. It was an unusual event when it happened, but Inez, the two restaurants and both hotels were low on milk. The last delivery to town was short. Robert Merton's cattle were beef cattle, but after this now third time being nearly out, he was thinking about expanding his herd, a sure boon to both him and the town. And J.D. always switched to beer when the town was low on dairy, knowing how important it was for the children of the town to get their fill.

"Then I'm sure he'll plan to get out to see her soon."

"Sounds good. Chris and Vin ain't back yet?" J.D. knew that Buck also out of town and was planning to ride back from Eagle Bend with the judge. They would be arriving late.

"Don't expect Chris back 'til after dark. But Ezra went with him to bring Jim Miner back."

"Ezra?" J.D. asked. He was lucky he didn't have a mouthful of beer, it would no doubt have ended up across Josiah's chest, in his graying moustache, with some of the brew making its way to trickle into his ear.

"Yep. Vin's wound got infected."

"He's at the clinic? He must be mad," J.D. noted, knowing how much Vin hated feeling confined, which he always felt when healing up from an injury.

"He's mad at somethin'," Josiah said. The man of faith had tried checking in on the tracker, but Vin seemed angrier than a grizzly bear woken too soon from hibernation. Nathan gave him a rundown of what had gone on while Josiah was at the reservation. He hoped he could get his Texas friend to talk about why he was feeling the way he was, but there was no talking to be done, other than Vin asking to be left alone.

J.D. hadn't caught the extra upset in the preacher's tone. "I'm headin' over to the jail. Got a new batch of wanted posters."

"All right." Josiah smiled, wondering what it was about those posters that could have the man sitting beside him spend so much time with them, other than an abiding commitment to the town, which was admirable. There was near nothing that would get Josiah to spend more than five minutes a week going through the stack.

"I'll keep an eye out for everyone," the young man said as he drank the last of his beer. He placed his hat on his head and said. "See ya later."

"I'll be around."

* * *

"It's near eight o'clock."

"Yeah, and we're near starvin', so get out o' the way, kid."

"Ain't no need to be rude, Buck," J.D. chastised his good friend.

The handsome ladies' man removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair. "You're right, J.D. Sorry 'bout that."

"That's all right. And you're right. If you want something decent, you'd best get to one of the restaurants." The two full-fledged restaurants in town only stayed open until nine o'clock. It was going on eight-thirty. Food was available at the hotels, though both menus there were limited. Inez stopped serving food at seven at the saloon; Digger Dan's had stopped serving food altogether over a year ago.

"Everything all right?" Judge Orin Travis asked.

"Yeah. Been quiet."

"That's good to hear, young man." J.D. smiled, his pleasure at being addressed as the fine lawman he'd become hard to miss. Buck smiled as he watched his friend, his ' _brother'_.

"Chris and Ezra not back yet?" Buck asked.

"No, but Ezra sent word from Cortez. They decided to wait until after noon to leave. That should put 'em here by nine."

Josiah stepped up to the group. "I don't like that they'll be riding at night."

"Hey, Josiah," Buck said. "None of us does, but that last hour is familiar territory."

"Chris won't keep goin' if he don't at least have good light from the moon, will he? I mean, the trial can start later in the day if they had to stop for the night, right judge?" J.D. asked.

"I suppose we would have to if the man on trial isn't here. Buck?" Judge Travis was more than ready to get this day over with.

"Let's go eat, judge. Did you boys have supper?" Buck asked.

"Yeah. We brought food to Vin and let Nate come down to eat," J.D. replied with a shake of his head.

Buck frowned at the obvious displeasure in his young friend's reply. "How is Vin?" he asked as the judge sent him an annoyed look.

"Not fit to spend time with," Josiah offered.

"Mean," J.D. said in describing their injured friend's demeanor.

"All right. I think I'll wait 'til tomorrow to check in on him. See you boys later," Buck added as he and the older man headed to their supper.

* * *

"You all right?"

"Yes."

"You _really_ all right?"

Ezra sighed. "I am well enough to continue."

"Is it still just a headache or is there more?"

A third voice entered the conversation. "I'd be happy to take a break."

Chris turned in his saddle. "You know, Jim, you ain't in no position to get what you want."

"I know. And I know I gotta pay fer what I done, but it's been a long day. Mr. Standish ain't … "

"Mistah Standish does not wish to be sleepin' on the ground this night. If Ah am estimatin' correctly, we are within an hour of our destination." Ezra looked up. "The skies are clear, the moon is graciously lightin' our way."

"You want to keep goin'," Chris said to his friend.

"Ah do."

"Then we keep goin'. Sorry, Jim."

"That's all right, Mr. Larabee. I didn't figger on winnin' this one, anyway."

"If only you had been thinkin' more clearly … "

"Yeah, yeah, Mr. Standish. Ya ain't got ta remind me."

"Jim, you want to tell me why you did it?" Chris asked.

"Well, I dunno if I should say anything. Shouldn't I wait ta see what the judge has ta say?"

Chris looked over to Ezra. He could see the familiar riverboat gambler's hat moving back and forth. Jim Miner, a familiar face in Four Corners, a drifter who would be in and out of town depending on the jobs he could pick up, was seen leaving the room of one of the performers in a traveling acting troupe. No one thought twice about it; Miner was known for being willing to do any job, and had done odd jobs for the hotel many times in the past. The actress, upon returning to her room, found all of her costume jewelry missing. She had been decent enough about the glass baubles that she wore for her roles on stage, but a rare and valuable emerald ring had also been stolen. It belonged to her great-great grandmother and was believed to have been handed down through several hundred years. The actress was devastated at its loss.

In an effort to help the distraught woman, word was sent out to towns in every direction, and Jim was ultimately caught trying to sell the red "ruby" necklace and the "diamond" tiara, not realizing the value of the small, old emerald ring.

"Guess that's your decision, Jim."

Jim Miner remained quiet for the rest of their journey. Chris spoke up occasionally, making sure that Ezra was all right. The former notorious gunslinger would have been happy to continue the trip in silence, but decided it was in every way wrong for the card sharp to be so damned quiet.

"Do you know why J.D. was out at Nettie's for so long?" Chris asked, trying to spur the southerner into conversation.

"Ah would suspect, Chris, and this is simply mah opinion, and Ah may be goin' out on a limb to say this, but Ah would venture to guess that it had somethin' to do with Miss Casey."

Chris snorted a laugh. _That was better._ "You are such a smart ass."

"Thank you."

"What I meant was, he wasn't spending the whole two days ogling Casey. What did Nettie have him doing?"

"Ah was not privy to the boy's plans."

The threesome kept riding, but Chris couldn't take the silence that seemed to shout from the fancily-dressed gambler. It was disconcerting. Chris would, and indeed had ridden any number of miles with Vin or Buck and never felt the need to keep up any chatter. With Buck, the ladies' man was easily able to keep up regular conversation, with the dialogue both one-sided and one-note. Vin? Chris and the tracker had gone hours at a time not saying word one while in the saddle.

"I heard Heiddeger was planning to start offering some imported German beer," Chris said.

"Ah heard the same," Ezra responded dutifully.

"You gonna try some?"

"Chris," Ezra said as he rubbed his forehead. "You do not need to keep up this ruse. Ah will neither fall asleep nor fall off mah horse if you prefer to finish makin' our way to our final destination in silence."

"I just figured … "

"Ah know. But Ah … with the darkness and mah headache, it might be safer if Ah did not attempt to focus too much on conversation just now."

"Oh, sure." _Hell._ "I didn't want to cause you more pain."

"Ah know."

"All right. Just … stay close."

Ezra smiled, though he knew Chris couldn't see it. "Ah shall."

* * *

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothin'."

"That is not what Ezra said."

"What the hell does he know?" He felt guilty the second he said it.

Inez Rocios walked to the window, pounding out her anger with each step she took. She turned around, stepped back to the bed and said, "I believe Ezra knows a hell of a lot." It was nearly unheard of for Inez to swear, at least in English. That she did expressed how truly upset she was. "Señors Sanchez and Jackson are saying the same. Buck and J.D., too. I am sure Señor Chris would agree with everyone."

"It don't matter."

"Do not do that. I know that you know the proper way to say that," Inez said. Her man never spoke of the details of the lessons Ezra had been giving Vin over the last couple of years, but she had heard Vin say it right many times in the past.

"It does not matter," Vin spat out, each word loud, clear and loaded with …. Inez wasn't sure there was a better word for it than what she felt: venom. She would have to ask Ezra when he returned.

"What does not matter?"

Vin looked into the passionate woman's eyes. He wasn't Ezra, he knew he couldn't hide his pain and anger and despair. His fear. And he saw the moment Inez's own resolve broke, saw the pity in the beautiful eyes.

"Señor Vin … "

"Would ya leave? I'm tired," the tracker said. It was a most unpleasant manner he'd taken on with the pretty lady. He quickly looked away as he now found the wall the most interesting thing in the room.

"Ah can say the same, Mistah Tanner but, save for mah mothah, each and every one of the rancorous exchanges Ah have shared with her justified, and mah next encounter with the likes of Missus Nichols, Ah would nevah speak to a woman in such a mannah." The extent of Ezra's exhaustion was proven by his thickened southern accent.

"Ezra," Inez said with a relieved gasp. She walked over quickly and snuggled up against him – a perfect fit. They shared a hug and a quick kiss. She looked into his eyes and immediately saw the pain. "Señor Jackson should be back soon," she said, knowing that her handsome southern gentleman would prefer the ailment to remain unexposed if he was planning to have a discussion with Vin, which he seemed determined to do as his eyes, piercingly green, stared unhappily at the recumbent tracker.

"Mah dear, would you kindly prepare a meal for Mistah Larabee, Mistah Miner and mahself?" he asked, knowing that they had returned to town too late for all of the eating establishments.

"Of course." The saloon manager hugged him tight, insisted on another kiss, this one not so short and full pf passion, a retaliation for the man in the bed speaking so unpleasantly to her? Possibly. She squeezed Ezra's hand, waiting momentarily ….

Ezra shook his head. "Leave the door open, darlin'. It is quite warm in here." Inez nodded worriedly. It was not that warm in Nathan's clinic. "Estoy bien," he said in an attempt to assure her. He kissed her hand, and then she looked to Vin once more. Nothing forthcoming from him had her head quickly to the door.

Ezra grabbed the nearest chair, slammed it in place beside the bed and took a seat. Vin barely twitched at the noise and the vibration as the chair legs pounded against the wide-planked wood of the floor, but remained mute.

"A gentleman would have apologized to the lady for such inappropriate words."

"Ain't no gentleman."

"A man of simple decency, which Ah thought you were, would do the same." Vin maintained his silence, refusing to look at his friend. "Ah would like to understand bettah what has precipitated this behavior on your part." Vin said nothing. "Ah know that you are not angry with Inez, so Ah must assume it is a displeasure with me that has you lashin' out."

Vin's jaw practically vibrated with the effort to control his … anger, frustration? Ezra was surprised he didn't hear teeth grinding hard against teeth. He remembered what Chris had told him out on the trail, but even still, such feelings did not make sense, and they certainly didn't excuse how he'd found Vin treating Inez. The man was lucky that Ezra considered him a friend, because consideration of his friend's injured state was the only thing that kept the southern gentleman from decking the former bounty hunter. One thing was certain: he couldn't let this go without making clear what would happen should he catch Vin speaking in a similar manner to any woman in town.

"You should appreciate how fortunate you are," the gambler started. Vin snorted sarcastically. "So you are listening. Good. You will nevah, evah speak to Inez or any of the ladies of this town in a similar mannah in mah presence."

"Didn't know you were here."

Ezra's eyes widened. "It is clear from your demeanor and from the things that have been flowin' from your mouth unchecked that your injury and subsequent illness has affected your good judgment. Ah was plannin' to provide you fair warnin' of the dangers you face if you proceed in this way … "

"You threatenin' me, Ezra?" Vin asked, finally looking to the card sharp.

"With all that Ah hold dear, indeed Ah am."

Vin sniffed at Ezra's attempt at intimidation, in spite of knowing that the man meant every word, and said, "I'm my own man, Ezra. I'll do what I want."

Ezra lowered his head, gently rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then looked up to find Vin looking away once more. He knew this was the wrong time to pursue this, that Vin was in no frame of mind, that he himself was working as hard as he ever had to maintain his temper at the same fighting a near-crippling headache and exhaustion from a long day in the saddle. But he simply could not leave until the man before him understood the implications of opening his mouth ever again in the way he just addressed Inez.

"If what you are displayin' here is supposed to represent bein' a man, it is nearly the worst illustration of one that Ah have personally witnessed since mah youth. That you resemble some of _those_ despicable men saddens me greatly."

"That's funny comin' from a _man_ who wears frilly shirts and rings and puts girly dressin' in his hair."

Ezra smiled wryly. "Touché. It is true, you are indeed the expert on appearances, Vin, evidenced by all of the women linin' up to get a taste through your filthy clothes, your unkempt beard and your scraggily hair." There was no question that the tracker had let his grooming go of late, though this was nothing more than an aberration in the man's normal appearance. Ezra knew just where to direct his comments to make them sting. "You must be fightin' 'em off left and right." He paused as he watched Vin's face grow more red, his jaw harden ever more square. The man with many words chose his next ones carefully. "Good for you."

Ezra reached for his hat, which he had hung on the post of the iron bed. As he did so, Vin sprang from the bed and shoved the unawares gambler in the chest. Ezra, with one foot off the floor as he reached, and after feeling sick and lightheaded and generally unwell since alighting from his horse, had no leverage to gain his balance and was sent flying backwards. The chair he sat in toppled over and slammed hard against the floor, followed by the bounce of Ezra's head, first once and then, due to the momentum caused by the hard push, a second time.

Vin's eyes grew wide at what he'd done. "Shit," he said, followed by a yelled, "Nathan!" He struggled upright and stepped over to the former con man, who had made no attempt to move, made no sound, unconscious. Vin kneeled next to Ezra. "Hey," he said as he looked at the closed eyes and the pale complexion. "Damn, Ez," he said, "you sick?" he asked. He heard the sounds of several pairs of boots rushing up the staircase, with Nathan and Chris nearly squeezing their way through the open door together.

"What the hell," Chris said, followed by, "Did he faint?"

"Faint?" Vin asked.

"Yeah," the leader of the Seven said. He frowned at Vin's reaction, sighed as he realized what now seemed the likely reason that Ezra was unconscious on the floor and asked, "What happened?"

"Ah, hell. We got into it."

"Into what?"

Vin just looked at Chris and shook his head. "I … " the tracker started, but the healer was interested only in the details that would help him with his once-again patient.

"Did you hit 'im?" Nathan asked.

"No." Vin paused and then admitted, "I pushed 'im."

Nathan observed the chair and where Ezra lay. "He hit his head?"

"Yeah. I … I think it hit twice."

"Chris, you asked if he fainted. Why? I thought you said he only had a bad headache."

"He's had a headache for over twenty-four hours, Nate, and he's ridden to Cortez and back in that time. Figure he was done in."

"Damn it. Vin," Nathan said irritably, "I need that bed."

"I'll … " Vin started, planning to make his escape.

"You take the cot, for now. You can head to your _room_ ," the healer emphasized his room at the boarding house over the wagon he knew the former buffalo hunter preferred, "tomorrow if everything looks good."

"Nathan, I'm fine."

"Just listen to him for now, Vin," Chris suggested firmly. "Let me help ya over to the cot." The rough bed was low and a bitch to get in and out of, even when you weren't injured _and_ suffered a bad back."

"Chris, when you're done there … "

"Comin'."

Ezra began to come to just moments after they placed him on the bed. Nathan found a bloody lump on the back of the former con man's head and had begun cleaning it when his friend blinked his eyes open.

"Welcome back," Nathan said with a smile.

"Hell," Ezra groused.

"Chris tells me ya ain't been feelin' too good."

"An understatement of the first order, good suh."

"You think this is one o' your sick headaches?"

"It appears to be ambitious in such a way, but it is quite different. Ah would have been forced abed in Cortez if it was. But it is a miserable state Ah find mahself in, nonetheless."

"But you are sick and dizzy," the former slave asked.

"Mostly dizzy."

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four."

"Good. Light and noises botherin' you?"

"Not as such." Nathan did not have to ask if he felt warm, Ezra was soaked through with sweat.

"All right. Let me get your hard head tended to and then I'll get some tea steeping."

"Ezra … " Vin started, but the gambler made it clear he was in no mood to continue their heated discussion.

"Not now, Vin."

"But … "

"Ah said no," the poker player returned sharply, followed by a wince that his own raised voice caused.

"I don't want … " the tracker tried again, but this time it was others in the room who stopped Vin from going on.

"Vin," both Nathan and Chris said. The healer continued his work as Chris added, "Save it for later." It was an order but it wasn't needed as Vin did finally realize that now was not the time, for either continued discussion or an apology that would with little doubt not be accepted.

* * *

"You're lucky he only sentenced you to a year, Jim."

"Reckon yer right, Josiah."

"Keep your nose clean and you might get one o' them early releases that I read about in the paper."

"That would be nice, but I done wrong. Figger I should do my time."

"You got a good attitude, Jim," Josiah returned just as the door to the jailhouse banged open. The preacher had his gun aimed at the threshold quickly, but lowered it as he recognized the newcomer. "J.D., you oughta know better."

"Yeah, sorry, but Chris wants you over at the clinic. Thinks you might be able to convince those two to talk right to each other."

"How many times has Vin tried to apologize now?" the big man asked. Buck had been by earlier and said that, since breakfast, Vin brought the subject up at least five times. Chris stopped in earlier to warn Josiah that his calm presence might help, and that he should stop by after his shift.

It seemed the leader of the Magnificent Seven could take no more. He apparently wasn't willing to wait two more hours for Josiah's assistance.

"Heck, J'siah, it's gotta be close to ten. And I gotta be honest, if someone had been to Casey the way Vin was with Inez, I wouldn't listen either."

"It doesn't really cost nothin' to listen, J.D.," Josiah said as he rose from his chair and holstered his gun. "You stayin' here?" he asked as he donned his hat.

"Yeah, go ahead."

"See you at supper?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. I sure hope you can help them," the young easterner called as Josiah stepped through the doorway to the boardwalk on the other side.

"From your mouth to God's ears," the preacher whispered softly as he made his way to Nathan's clinic. On his way, he ran into the healer himself.

"I heard Ezra and Vin are havin' words. Again."

"Yeah. A person can only witness so much of his friends goin' after each other."

"Ezra's got a point. He's lookin' for Vin to explain himself."

"Hell, I know he's got a point, Josiah. And I've been sittin' in there listenin' to 'em go back and forth. Vin's healin' up good with bein' forced to stay in bed, but the arguin' and the stress and then the damn silence from Ezra … he ain't gettin' over his headache. Goin' on two full days now."

Josiah wiped his hand down his face. "Stubborn, both of them."

"That's an understatement," Nathan said with conviction.

"Ezra's suffered headaches longer than two days," Josiah mentioned.

"Sick headaches. This one's different. Anyway, I told Vin he could go to his room, but now he won't leave, says he needs Ezra to understand, but he keeps not explaining anything other than he's sorry and he knows it was wrong and he won't do it again."

"Let me go see what I can do," Josiah said as he patted his friend on the back.

"All right. I'm going to go check on Curtis Knightly's leg."

"The little boy who fell out of the tree?"

"Yeah. If it's still healin' up good, I'm leavin' him this pair of crutches."

"That's good news," Josiah said with a smile. The boy had been downright religious about following all of Nathan's instructions. He had earned this new freedom.

"So long as he keeps abiding what I tell him, and his mother and father make sure that he does, it is good news."

"At least he's not Ezra or Vin," Josiah said with a playful grin.

"I will quit if I get another one like either o' them," Nathan threatened, face deadly serious.

"No you won't."

"No I won't. But my walk out to the Knightly's will give me time to think up some nastier tastin' medicinal tea, just for them," the healer warned as he stomped to the livery door.

"That's more like it," the preacher said as he took the stairs to Nathan's clinic. A loud voice could be heard on the other side of the door, a sound that seemed to put two of the occupants of the room in possible jeopardy.

"Can I get in on this discussion?" Josiah asked, his voice calm, his demeanor soothing.

"Be my guest," Chris said from his position leaning against Nathan's work table. "I need some air," he added as he captured Josiah's eyes, explaining the lack of progress with just one look … and a tilt of the head toward Vin Tanner. The door slammed behind him as Josiah took a chair and placed it so that both men would be able to see him as he spoke.

"Chris seems a little riled up," the big man said as he turned for the water pitcher. He poured a drink for each of the occupants of the room. It was overly warm, the high temperatures in the clinic room mimicking the raised tempers. "Have a drink, fellas," he said, handing a glass to each man. "There's a nice breeze out there. I'm gonna open the door and the curtain, see if we can't do somethin' 'bout coolin' things down in here." Once he finished those tasks, he took his seat.

All three men remained quiet. A long few minutes passed when finally Ezra said, "You are wastin' your time, Josiah."

"Quiet contemplation requires no specific setting," the philosophical member of the peacekeeping team said.

"Very well. Your contemplative mood might afford me some merciful rest. Certainly Mistah Larabee's menacing stare and … Vin, together, were doin' neither."

"Maybe if you'd accept my apology you might rest easier, Ezra," Vin snapped. The poker player just looked at the man, shook his head and turned to look at Josiah. The expression on the southerner's face said he'd had enough as he closed his eyes.

Josiah took up the job of staring at the long-haired man opposite him. "What is it that you're apologizing for, Vin?" the minder of the town's church asked.

"Hell, Josiah, you know."

"Pretend that I don't. Why do you seek Ezra's forgiveness?"

"'Cause o' how I spoke to Inez."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure?" Josiah pressed.

"You think there's something more I should be sorry for?"

"Vin, you know in your heart whether there might be anything else, anything more, that you need to express your regret over."

"But you think … "

"I think that what I think has no bearing whatsoever. Do you feel the need to say anything to Ezra?"

"Don't matter," Vin murmured, "he won't listen."

"Ah have been doin' nothin' _but_ listenin', Mistah Tanner. The problem is that Ah am not hearin' you _say_ anything."

"Ezra," Josiah warned.

"Mistah Jackson said that we were free to return to our respective abodes once Mistah Larabee was through with us. Ah believe his absence," Ezra said as he sat up and waited patiently, and hopefully covertly, for the room to stop wavering, "is evidence that we are free to emancipate ourselves from these premises."

"That true?" Josiah asked Vin. Ezra snorted a bitter laugh as he stood and placed his vest over his shirt.

"Reckon."

"Well, then, as Chris' proxy, I'll be the one who says when you can go." Ezra continued to button his vest. "Sit down," Josiah ordered. The former con man unrolled his cuffs, then fished in his pockets for his cufflinks. "Ezra. Sit. Down."

Ezra rubbed his forehead. "Josiah, Ah neither see the point in continuing this carousel, nor do Ah feel up to doing so." He proceeded to do up his cufflinks and then turned to reach for his jacket. The preacher grabbed it first.

"Sit down."

"No."

"Just listen for a few minutes."

"No." Ezra reached to take the jacket from the hands of his much larger friend. Josiah reached the jacket behind him with his right hand, and pushed Ezra back toward the bed with his left.

"Ah will not stand bein' assaulted by a so-called 'friend' twice in the same week," the gambler said as he moved toward the door, intent on getting out even if it meant leaving his fine haberdashery behind.

"You won't wait five minutes even if it means you two might resolve your differences?" Josiah demanded.

"Unlike the deity you laud so highly, Josiah, you have nevah proven yourself a miracle worker." Ezra stormed from the clinic, slamming the door behind him.

Josiah turned to Vin. "Do you need me to spell it out, to explain exactly why it is that Ezra won't accept your apology?"

"I think I know."

"I don't think you do," the older man suggested.

"Don't matter."

"That's twice you've said that." Josiah took the chair he'd planned to sit in, placed it directly in front of the tracker, sat and said, "You seem to have lost your memory. He's a right forgiving soul, you know that as well as any of us, maybe more. But he's also the most suspicious, uncertain as to the depths of the friendships he's made here. You actin' like you are justifies him thinkin' that way."

Vin kept his head down and offered no response.

"All right. Let me suggest this. He ain't feelin' good, and he's about fed up with the non-apology apology you've been offerin'. Let's let him have the rest of today and tomorrow off. Maybe with some distance from each other you two might start seein' the light."

Vin shrugged, then answered with a mumbled, "Fine."

"Good." Josiah looked at the no longer wanted man. He wondered what it was, even after three years of them all working together, that some of them still seemed unable to trust fully, most especially these two. These kinds of disagreements didn't happen often anymore, but when they did they seemed to have to come close to a nasty and precipitous falling out before righting themselves.

At least Chris and Ezra seemed to be over their own up and down relationship. Nathan and Ezra, too. Hmm. Josiah didn't like to think too much on the constant that Ezra seemed to bea factor in all of these volatile relationships.

The preacher recognized the healer's footsteps approaching the clinic door. Light flooded the room as Nathan entered.

"Where's Ezra?"

"Left."

"Left?" Nathan asked. He looked to Vin. "You said you'd make sure neither of you would take off before I got back." Vin shrugged.

"Guess Brother Vin thought he might make some headway with our friend by letting him do what he wants. Course, he seems to have forgot that dealin' with Ezra is sometimes a lot like pushin' up against a brick wall."

"Don't need to tell me," Nathan agreed. The healer looked back at Vin. "Go on, get out. Need you to stay in your room at the boarding house for the next week."

"Week?"

"And I want to see you every day to check for infection."

Vin was about to open his mouth in protest when he caught sight of the steely determination displayed on both of his friends' faces. "All right," he said, knowing that if he didn't agree he'd be dealing with one or the other of them or worse, Larabee, all of whom would be more than willing to make an uncomfortable scene of his absence. He left, slamming the door behind him.

"Lot o' that goin' on," Josiah noted lightly.

"Not sure how much more that door can take," Nathan added.

"We'll fix it."

"I know." They shared a glance, silently wishing that the divide between Ezra and Vin could be so easily mended. They heard boots on stair treads – and spurs – making their way to the second floor.

"This ain't gonna be pretty," the preacher said as he took a seat, preparing himself for the inevitable explosion.

Chris opened the door. "Hey, they're gone."

"Yep," Josiah agreed.

"So, did they talk it out? Is this thing over with?"

"Nope."

"What? Why'd you let 'em go?"

"Neither one is listenin' too good, and Vin, he needs time for reflection."

"Oh. So you're gettin' 'em back together later today?" Chris asked.

"No. I told them to leave each other alone for the rest of today and tomorrow."

"Not so sure that's for the best," Nathan said. "Seems to me those two need to work it out no matter how uncomfortable it is for them."

"Nathan, I know you haven't forgotten how hard your road with Ezra was. You made it the whole long and winding distance," Josiah said with admiration. "Just think how you would have felt if any of us forced you to deal with it when you or Ezra weren't feeling up to snuff? You know Ezra would often sneak away to lick his wounds any number of times in order to keep from sayin' something he'd regret."

"Did the same with me," Chris reminded them.

"You boys and Ezra figured it out," the preacher went on. "A lot of that had to do with that man avoiding confrontation. And I know you stayed on the reservation longer more than once when you and Ezra had been going through a particular bad time, Nate. I think it's best we let nerves and tempers calm and cool."

Nathan shook his head. "That means someone's gonna need to keep Vin away from Ezra, 'cause he's damned determined to get this fixed."

"He's afraid," Chris said.

"I know," Josiah agreed.

"But he can't push," Nathan stated firmly.

Chris headed for the door. He turned and asked the healer, "Is it all right if I take Vin out to my place? Can he ride?"

"If you take it easy. You'll need to check his wound," Nathan said as he walked around the small room putting together supplies. "Make sure he keeps it clean, rests. If it looks like it's goin' bad, come on back."

"All right. See you in a few days."

"Be careful out there," the big man said.

* * *

A faint tap at the door had Ezra utter an annoyed 'Hell' under his breath. He opened his eyes, found his room pitch black, too warm and very quiet. He decided the noise must have been at another door down the hall. He rested his aching head deep into his soft pillow.

 _Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap._

' _Who knocks with such a rhythm?'_ Ezra thought. _'Or lack thereof.'_

"Go away," he called from his comfortable feather bed.

"Can I come in?"

"Fuck," the former con man said softly, followed more loudly by, "Vin?"

"Can I come in?"

"No. Ah was told you would be spending time with Mistah Larabee."

"Can't. Not 'til we settle this."

"What time izzit?" Ezra slurred.

"'Bout midnight."

"Go away, Vin."

Ezra heard a soft thud, likely Vin's wavy hair cushioning his head against the door. But he did not hear the Texan's boots head back down the hallway. He did hear the very familiar staccato taps of Inez Rocios' shoes on the boards approaching Ezra's room. The southern gentleman leapt to his feet, grabbed the bedpost as the room spun about him, took the two steps from the bed to the door, leaned on the frame to settle himself and opened the door.

"Ezra," Vin said.

"No," Inez insisted as she stepped between the two men. "He has not slept all day. I will not allow this."

"Inez," Ezra started, hoping to keep everyone calm, for the sake of others in the rooms trying to sleep if not for his own still-splitting headache.

"Vin, what the hell," Chris said as he joined in the fray. "Nathan's gonna have my hide for lettin' you ride back to town in the dark."

"I needed … "

"You needed? You want! But 'it does not matter', Señor Vin," Inez said, throwing the words Vin had used with her right back at him. "Now is not the time, you know this, yet you persist. Ezra is upset with you for your ungentlemanly behavior towards me, among other things," she continued as Chris and Ezra exchanged wide eyes at her passionate defense of Ezra and condemnation of the tracker's behavior. Both men knew better than try to interrupt her. "But I am equally offended by your rude and thoughtless behavior towards him." The pleading brown eyes moved from Vin to Chris and then to Ezra. She frowned at how poorly he looked, but she needed to finish what she had begun. "You know better, I know you do. You are a decent man. Ezra mentions all the time of how attuned you are to everything. You must know what you need to do to make this right, but more important, right now," she added, nodding her head to her listless lover, "you must accept that now is …. " Inez was unable to finish as Chris pushed through and caught Ezra as he nearly toppled into the beautiful Mexican woman.

"Hell," Chris said, followed by, "Vin, get Nathan."

"I can help … "

"Yeah, you can," Chris ground out as he took most of Ezra's weight while Inez helped on the other side. "We've got him. Get Nathan." Vin made his way down the stairs as fast as his still-healing body would allow. Chris and Inez manhandled Ezra back to his bed.

"He has not slept through even one hour since returning from the clinic. I believe he has been dwelling on his fight with Señor Vin."

"Nate's tea didn't put him out?"

"No. And he tried several times, but the last mug made him sick, and that only hurts him more."

Chris observed Ezra's attire. "Why isn't he in his nightshirt?"

"Porque él es obstinado." Chris' face twisted in his attempt to translate. "Sorry, Señor Chris. Because he is … stubborn."

"That is a mattah of 'pinion," Ezra mumbled as he replied to the conversation going on above his head.

"Why'd ya get outta bed?" Chris asked. "And where's your damn nightshirt?"

Ezra pushed himself up against his headboard. Inez reached to fluff the pillow and helped him to get in place. She knew the best way to prepare the bed when Ezra was suffering a headache. She also knew that, with the added dizziness, laying the man more upright helped.

"Ah," Ezra started, rubbing his forehead, "felt disinclined to leave Inez to fight alone against Mistah Tanner."

"We were disagreeing more than fighting, and I do not need you to fight for me," Inez retorted angrily. "We do not know why your symptoms persist this time. You should stay in bed." The feisty woman grabbed Ezra's watch from the night table. "Ah. I must get downstairs and begin cleaning up."

"I'll stay with him."

"Thank you, Señor Chris." Inez looked to Ezra, shook her head and left the room.

"I think you made her mad," the tall blond said with a smirk.

"You don't say." Ezra answered humorlessly.

Chris could not believe Vin would come all the way back to town to demand a meeting with Ezra. At midnight! What the hell was he thinking? The leader of the Seven looked at his sick friend. Josiah had been right, there was no benefit to the men meeting right now. Looking at Ezra, there sure as hell was a detrimental effect.

"Let's get you out of those clothes. You'll be more comfortable." Ezra sat up, placing his hands on the edge of the bed when he felt himself tipping toward the floor. Chris placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Start in on all those buttons," Chris told his friend. "Nightshirt?"

"Second drawer from the top, on the left," Ezra replied tiredly. By the time Vin returned with Nathan, Ezra's layers of fancy clothes had been exchanged for the soft, cotton nightwear.

The black man, who would easily have been a doctor by now if not for his race, found the cloth that he'd tied together and placed in his medical bag before leaving the clinic. He handed it to Chris and said, "Can you and Vin have Inez put this in a mug with scalding water? Have her add a good spoon of honey." The healer looked at Chris and nodded toward the tracker. Nathan wanted Vin gone; Chris could not have agreed more.

"Let's go, Vin."

The former bounty hunter followed, his silence sounding loudly his reluctance to do so. Once the two men were out the door, Nathan said, "Tension headache."

"No doubt," Ezra agreed with the concept.

"No. I meant I did some research and they're called tension headaches."

"Really?" Ezra said. "Sick headache. Tension headache. The medical profession will nevah be mistaken for bein' creative in their naming of illnesses. A more mundane appellation one could not think of." The southerner's sarcasm was nearly smothered by the slurred words and the pain that Ezra simply could not hide.

"Yeah, whatever you say. Your headaches will go away, but it'd be best if ya stopped worryin' on Vin. He's a grown man. He can deal without seein' you for a while."

"That is seemingly not so."

Nathan put his hand on his friend's forehead. "It will be," the healer said, followed by, "Got a slight fever." Ezra knew that was so. "Did you lose consciousness? Vin thought that you did."

"Momentarily."

"Feelin' dizzy?"

"Yes."

"Anything else I should know?" Nathan asked as he checked Ezra's throat for inflammation of his glands. The fever was surprising; the man didn't need an unchecked cold, or worse, on top of his other symptoms.

"No. Well, yes. Ah have not slept all day."

"All day? Since you left the clinic?"

"All day. Ah fall asleep, but the pain has been … insinuatin' itself," the gambler admitted.

"You should have sent for me." Ezra nodded slightly in reply as he rubbed his forehead. "The tea Inez is preparing has a stronger dose of herbs for pain, and it will make you sleep. You should use your chamber pot."

"Good lord, Nathan."

"I'm not kidding, Ez."

"Very well." He reached his hand to the former slave. "Help me up."

Ten minutes later, Ezra had finished what Nathan suggested and downed the very hot tea. Its warmth helped to ease the ill man immediately, with the sedative effects not far behind.

"Hell, Nathan, what'd ya give 'im?" Chris asked.

"Same thing as always, only twice as much the amount for pain and three times as much to make him sleep. The instructions I got back from Dr. Winters in Denver said it was all right to go with the higher dose when he's had the headache this long. Wouldn't recommend it for shorter duration, though. Said this dosage, along with not lettin' him get more stressed ought to knock it out."

"He's cool as can be in a fight or at the poker table," Chris observed as he took a swig from Ezra's flask and then handed it over to Nathan.

"The sick headaches are one thing. Medicine ain't exactly clear on what causes them. But stress is a known cause of tension headaches. Figure Ez just walks into 'em when it's something personal, like when Maude shows up, or this trouble with Vin."

"So you think he's had 'em before?"

"I'm sure of it. We all get 'em, he just gets 'em worse. But he gets awful testy if I call him on a headache. You know how his eyes get?"

"Yeah."

"He's like that more regular than you or I know. J.D. and Josiah have come to see me about it, but Ezra just denies he's hurting when I go check on him. He's told me half a dozen times, easy, that he was fine when he obviously wasn't."

"Just like all of us, he doesn't want to be seen as not carryin' his weight," Chris answered. They both laughed sadly at the irony; they knew that Ezra Standish had put up with far too many derogatory comments about his laziness, early on.

"I think a lot of him insisting that rising early is uncivilized is more him struggling sometimes to get up. There ain't nothin' pleasant about waking with a headache, especially the ones as severe as his."

Chris shook his head as he looked at the southerner. Ezra looked more unconscious than just sleeping. "Isn't there something that can help?"

"Sure. He could resign as a lawman." Chris glared at the healer. "I know. He could stop drinkin'."

"Nathan," Chris growled.

"I'm just tellin' you how it is. There may be some changing we could make to his diet."

"Hell."

"I know. I got a list of some herbs and medicinal plants that could help keep the tension headache from happening."

"He won't take anything that makes him feel less sharp," Chris warned.

"I know."

"I don't envy you, Nate."

"You don't have to. I can't make this happen on my own. We'll all be involved in whatever answer we come up with to help him. And we need to help him. He's finally let on that he's hurting. That's good. But the man could get worse or end up dead if we keep letting him get away with hiding when he's in pain like this."

"You think he could die from a headache?" Chris asked as softly as he could. He wouldn't want Ezra to overhear such a conversation, though looking at the man on the bed he already looked dead to the world.

"It's not like that. It's just that severe pain can make a person do crazy things. His sick headaches force him to bed, but this other … he'll think he should be able to ride it out. It could put him in a bad place when he's challenged at a hand of cards, or by someone tryin' to rob the bank."

"Or makin' him not accept Vin's apology until he hears Vin say the right words," Chris wondered.

"I doubt Ez would do any more than bruise him some, but I haven't heard Vin come up with much of an apology. I don't think Ezra's wrong in waiting 'til he hears it right."

"Great."

"Sorry."

"No. Hell, Nate, I know you're right. I know Ezra's right and I know Vin's gonna need more help before he understands that. Or at least help in getting him to put the right words together. It's funny, he's really nothing like what this one instance would make an outsider think. And we all know that but we're all still so mad at him."

Nathan shook his head. "That's because we all know he knows better. We know he's a good man. This ain't Vin and it should be the easiest thing in the world for him to apologize right."

"Guess I need to go talk to him," Chris said.

"All right," the healer said, "but remember, I need help with this one, too."

"I won't forget."

* * *

"Hey there, hoss. How ya feelin'?" the friendly gunslinger asked.

"Distinctly bettah, Buck. Thank you for askin'."

"That's good to hear. I brought you somethin' I figured might make you feel better." The ladies' man finally showed the hand that he'd been obviously hiding behind his back. Fred rushed past the tall legs and leapt onto Ezra's bed, practically levitating in his excitement to get up to his favorite person.

"Fred, mah friend, how are you? Do you want to give me a kiss?" The little orange and white hound stood with his front paws on the card sharp's chest, the dog's nose and Ezra's nearly touching. From Buck's vantage point, both man and canine had to be looking at each other cross-eyed, they were so close to each other.

"I thought you said he didn't give kisses," Buck said questioningly.

"He does not. It is simply a joke between we two," Ezra answered as he pulled Fred to lay on his chest. The dog dropped, boneless, to lean into the convalescing man. Ezra gave Fred a kiss on his wide head.

"All right," Buck said with a furrowed brow, a blink of his eyes and an uncertain smile on his face.

"Ah see he is on a leash. Has he been stealin' customers' meals again?" Before Buck had a chance to reply, Ezra asked, "Fred, have you been pilferin' food again?"

Fred chose to remain silent, his inscrutable expression as practiced as the gambler's poker face.

"Yep. Inez says he's not allowed run o' the saloon again until you, and I'm quoting here, 'fix it'."

"Yes, well, if others would be as firm with him as Ah am this would not happen. Ah am not inclined to do anything about this," the clearly healing man said.

The whoosh of skirt had Ezra and Buck looking to each other with grave concern.

"Is that so?" Inez asked. "I believe I have some inclinations of my own," she said as she set the tray on Ezra's lap. Fred did not try to reach for anything on the tray. "Or maybe I should phrase it more appropriately, more like I have misplaced my … _desire_ for some things that you are more _inclined_ to like." The fiery Mexican senorita paused dramatically and added, "and _inclined_ to miss," before leaving the two men stunned, mouths open, before Buck's face lit with humor.

"Whoo-ee, Ez. Think maybe you made a tactical error there."

"So it seems." Ezra looked at Fred and said, "It appears Ah now find mahself in the dog house." He gave Fred a fond rubbing at his neck and added, "Move over, son."

Buck snorted as he headed for the door. "I got patrol. Have a good day."

"Hell," the card sharp said as he worked out how to fix things with Inez. Again.

* * *

"You allowed to be down here?" Chris asked.

"Ah am. Nathan believes that Ah am past this particular episode. He wishes that Ah take it easy for another day or two."

"Did he give ya something new?" the leader of the lawmen asked as he sat beside the town's resident professional poker player. There was no doubt that the man was feeling better. He looked freshly groomed and healthy, not the sweaty, pale man with the pain-filled eyes of the last couple of days. Chris wondered why Ezra would continue in his job of peacekeeper. Certainly the stress and tension that the job entailed could bring on these tension headaches, even if Nathan and the medical professionals were unsure if the same could be said for the sick headaches. Nathan's research had come upon the tension headache, which was really just a normal headache for most people, something that would normally last no more than a few hours. Ezra's two day affair was severe by anyone's definition.

"He did. Even with the honey added, Ah was unable to keep it down. Inez took pity on me and had Thomas mind the saloon. She massaged mah head and neck and Ah managed to get some rest. It helped, most assuredly. Ah am fortunate that mah head no longer pains me as Ah feel certain that the senorita would not be … _inclined_ to assist me now."

"Buck told me what happened."

"C'est la vie."

"I don't know, Ezra. Seems to me that you and Inez need the conflict in your relationship, helps to keep things interesting," the former gunslinger said with a grin.

"Ah suppose that is one word for it."

The sound of gunfire and the rumble of a fast-approaching wagon had both men quickly out of their seats.

"Go inside," Chris ordered.

"No. Ah am fine." They heard Josiah ringing the church bell in warning. Vin came running up to them.

"Sounds like the prison wagon. It's due here to pick up Jim Miner."

Chris looked at Vin. "You figure there's someone in that wagon those yahoos firing the guns are trying to help escape?"

"Sounds logical," Buck said as he and J.D. joined them.

"All right. Josiah'll stay where he is. Vin, head on up. Buck and J.D., spread out on this side. Stay down and out o' sight." Chris saw Robert Merton heading their way. Chris waved him over to Potter's mercantile. "I'll head to the bank."

"Ah will … "

"Get inside, Ezra," Chris said again.

There was no time to argue. Ezra went inside, and then ran up the staircase, reached the first landing, turned, and ran back down to Inez. "Stay behind the bar," he said to her. "Do not venture out. We have uninvited guests." He gave her a quick kiss and then ran for his room. He took position at the window but he could not get the view he needed nor the angle he desired from inside. He stepped outside onto the roof of the boardwalk overhang, inched over to the corner of the building and crouched down, pulling out his Remington.

"Everybody inside!" Chris yelled to the townspeople in the streets and on the boardwalks.

"Come on, Mrs. Potter. You gotta get in the saloon 'til this is over," J.D. said as he guided the shop owner through the batwing doors and into the drinking establishment.

"Thank you, J.D."

"Are the kids gonna be all right?" the young lawman asked.

"Yes. We have rules for what should happen when they hear something bad like this." He watched her head to Inez.

"Where's Nathan?" Buck asked his friend.

"Don't know."

"All right. Get in position, kid."

"Be careful, Buck."

The wagon still had someone in control of the reins of the team of four horses, but the turn he took into town nearly had the back end of the wagon take out a corner of the church. The wagon righted itself, most likely tossing its human cargo against its hard walls, and made its way onto the main avenue of Four Corners, the driver making no effort to stop.

The echo of Josiah's rifle was heard, the bullet taking out the rider nearest the wagon. Another of the six riders trying to stop the wagon was hit by one of Nathan's knives, the sharp object embedded in the man's thigh. He dropped his gun and reached for his leg. The activity caused the horse to sway to the right and the man to lose his balance, falling to the ground.

"Buck!" Chris called from across the way.

"Got 'im!" the former Texas Ranger called as he aimed and fired his rifle. The bullet tore a bloody hole in the arm of the third member of the gang. His horse reared up on his hind legs and dumped his rider.

The wagon was now just below Vin, giving him a perfect angle to take out the next man, who had jumped from his horse and made his way onto the rear of the prisoner transport. He made it as far as the back edge of the roof before the sharpshooter aimed and fired, catching the man in the upper chest just as he crested the top of the wagon. His gun clattered along the back of the wagon and then under the wheel, and his body fell to the dusty, hard-packed ground, dead.

"All right! All right!" one of the last two still on a horse yelled. "We give up!" he called, throwing first his revolver and then his rifle to the ground. The last man followed suit.

Josiah walked up with the one he'd shot.

"The one Vin shot is dead," he said.

"This one here is alive," Buck said as he shoved his prisoner forward. Nathan ran up to his comrades.

"Did one of you find the one I got?"

Chris walked up at that moment, just in time for Ezra to see the one with the bleeding leg aim a gun at the tall blond's back.

"Chris! Down!" he yelled. The former gunslinger immediately complied with the shouted order, and Ezra's shot was true: straight between the man's eyes.

"Thanks, Ezra," Chris called up to the man on the roof, followed by, "That ain't what I meant by goin' inside."

A scuffle broke out near the other lawmen and their prisoners. An angry, "You killed my brother!" was heard. A gunshot echoed, the bullet aimed for the gambler who, as fast as he could, retreated behind the corner of the saloon.

"Damn it!" Buck yelled as he disarmed the man he had brought over. "Where'd you get … aw, hell," he added.

"Is that yours, Buck?" J.D. asked, but he would have to wait for the answer as the sound of the roof collapsing that Ezra stood upon drowned out all other sound. The screeching of metal and the banging of wood-on-wood was heard as they watched Ezra fall through the roof and land on the boardwalk.

"Shit," was verbalized from all six of the southerner's fellow peacekeepers.

"Buck and Josiah, go dump the ones still alive in the jail," Chris ordered as he saw Robert Merton run to check on the slowing prison wagon. "Vin and J.D., make sure the dead are really dead and get the bodies taken care of. Nate?" Chris asked as Nathan, not needing more than his name being said, rushed to check on Ezra.

The healer found the card sharp laying on his back, mostly on top of everything he'd been standing upon just moments ago. A dangling piece of roof fell after Ezra had landed, the piece of metal now laying across his legs.

"Ezra?" Nathan asked as he knelt before his friend.

Ezra blinked and moved his head slowly. The black man came into focus after several attempts to blink the image into clarity.

"Nathan?"

"Yeah. You all right?"

The former con man closed his eyes, seeming to take some time to check his body for injuries.

"Ah do not b'lieve Ah am perf'rated in any way."

"That's good," the healer said, though he felt his patient's extremities just in case.

"Mah back … hurts," Ezra grunted.

"I'm not surprised by that," Nathan countered, happy that the man he was treating appeared lucid.

"How ya doin', Ezra?" Chris asked as he towered over the prone man.

"Well," Ezra started with a wince, "Ah have a bit of a headache, if you c'n b'lieve it."

Nathan and Chris shared a worried look. The former slave moved up to the injured man's head and started gently poking around to find the spot where Ezra had most certainly knocked his head when he landed.

Chris said, "You saved my life."

"Perhaps," Ezra retorted.

"No 'perhaps' about it. Ya did."

"Ah … " the poker player began, but Chris cut him off.

"When I tell ya to do something, you should do it. If you had, you wouldn't be here."

"And neither would you," Ezra responded, irritated.

Chris grunted. "Reckon." He knelt next to the gambler and said, "We need to talk with Nate about your headaches." Ezra returned a blistering glare, which only served to aggravate the pain in his head more. "Not this one," Chris said with a sly grin. "Nathan thinks he has some stuff you can do to avoid getting them."

"Are you suggestin' that we have this conversation forthwith?"

"No, Ezra, I'm not suggestin' that we talk now. But soon."

"Very well."

"Hey, fellas," Robert said as he joined them. "This is a bit of a mess," he said, eliciting the identical annoyed expression from Chris, Nathan and Ezra. "Anyway," the rancher said, ignoring the reactions, "wagon's secure. Judge Travis said to just shove those idiots into the wagon and haul 'em all to the territorial prison. Seems they're all wanted for breaking out of jails up and down the territory." The news didn't improve the attitude of any of the three men. "Don't shoot the messenger," Robert said, "but the judge told me to tell you, Chris, that he wants a couple of you to accompany the wagon."

"That's not too surprising. Thanks, Robert."

"You all right there, Ezra?" the sometime lawman asked.

"Ah have been bettah and Ah have been worse."

"Take it easy," the rancher said as he headed home.

Once Robert was gone, Chris continued, "Try not to give Nathan a hard time. He's only trying to help."

"So long as he does not expect me to retire mah position as a lawman, stop drinking or playin' poker, or expect me to stop eating the amazing delicacies offered up by the magnificent ladies of our town, and eat like a rabbit, Ah believe Ah can accommodate that request."

Chris and Nathan shared an uncomfortable visual exchange, and then Chris said, "No one expects you to stop playing poker."

Nathan rolled his eyes as Ezra's face paled. He looked first to Nathan and then to Chris. "Good lord!"

"And you and Vin are talking tomorrow."

"Day after tomorrow," Nathan corrected.

"Fine. But it's happening."

"Whatevah you say, Fathah." The card sharp closed his eyes and seemed content to fall asleep where he lay.

"Let's get him up to the clinic," Nathan suggested.

"Mah room."

"No," Chris said.

"Ah am goin' to mah room," Ezra demanded in a quiet simmer.

"I got no patients right now. I'll watch him in his room for the next few hours. Have someone put a note on my door so people know where to find me," the healer suggested.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. He's aware enough. Doesn't seem to have anything worse than a mild concussion and some scrapes and bruises."

"All right. Up to your room it is," Chris said lightly as he and Nathan helped the hurt man up. Ezra groaned and wobbled unsteadily, but knew he had two friends covering him. They would not let him fall.

"Thank you."

By the time they reached Ezra's room, coming up the back steps to avoid Inez, for now, the gambler was nearly asleep standing up.

"You need me to get anything?" Chris asked.

"I'll make a list. Have J.D. collect everything. He knows where it all is."

"All right. But he's gonna be all right, right?"

"Tha's lot o' the same word," Ezra slurred softly. He took a deep breath, near to sleep.

Both Chris and Nathan laughed. Nathan said, "Yeah, he'll be fine. He's tough."

Chris knew that to be a fact.

* * *

Ezra moved, groaned from all of his new bruises, though not so much from his head, yawned, stretched and groaned again.

"Ya'll right?"

Four Corners' resident professional poker player blinked his eyes, which seemed none-too-happy to be forced open. Ezra had recognized the voice, its twang and cadence uniquely that of Vin Tanner.

"Mistah Tanner?"

"Aw, hell, Ez. Can't we get past this?"

"Mistah Tanner … "

"Name's Vin. Been callin' me that fer a while. Friends use first names."

"Ah was not certain that we were still friends," the tired man said as he reached for the glass of water on his bedside table.

"Here," the tracker said as he found the glass first and handed it to the thirsty man. Ezra drank as Vin said, "We are." He paused as he checked to make sure Ezra was listening and added, "Friends."

The southerner handed the glass back to the Texan. "Ah am perplexed that one can say that yet not present behavior that demonstrates it."

Vin sat down in Ezra's rocking chair. The gambler was certain that the tracker was the first person to ever look uncomfortable in the extraordinarily comfortable chair.

"Hell, Ezra, you know I ain't much fer words."

Ezra stared at his 'friend' and said, "Ah suppose Ah am under a misconception of what it means to be a friend." The always eloquent man did not leave the man before him to worry about his meaning when he added, "Your poetry speaks plainly and beautifully. Your felicity with words is known to everyone in this town." Vin had gone on to infrequently offer up a poem for Mary Travis to publish in The Clarion Newspaper, since that first poetry contest over two years before.

"You think I'm a liar."

"Ah think you are not a liar. Ah believe you might be inadvertently disingenuous when you denigrate yourself about your linguistic aptitude."

Vin's eyes grew wide and a deeper shade of blue than normal, a clear sign to the former con man of Vin's frustration. He begged testily, "Do ya have ta make it so hard?" He lowered his head, rubbed it and then said, "Yer givin' me a headache."

"Welcome to the club." Ezra waited until Vin raised his head, then said, "Ah don't think you are bein' honest about your way with words. You are a poet, and you are a different man with the language now than you were a few years ago." Ezra paused, then added, "And you know it."

Vin nodded, looked away briefly but looked back to Ezra quickly. He shrugged his shoulder and cocked his head, showed a slight grin and then admitted, "I ain't … I'm not much fer speeches, so … well, I wrote somethin'. I hope you'll take it the way I intended."

Ezra's eyes immediately grew misty. He blinked them clear, hoping that Vin missed the sudden bolt of emotion that had washed over the southerner in anticipation of what he knew was to come. "You wrote a poem?" Ezra asked. "Of apology?"

Vin shrugged his shoulder and cocked his head again. "Reckon that's fer you to decide." Vin wasted no time as he started the poem before Ezra could react further.

XXX

Friends say I've been wrong,

That I need to make it right.

But when you look at me, the proper words?

They're nowhere in sight.

xxx

She's such a good person. So are you. So am I.

Lame tries at 'I'm sorry; I stop and I start.

I force the words on my lips.

They're always wrong. It's a dagger to my heart.

xxx

I think I've worked it out.

Some of the others, they know.

You're the one that matters.

Just got to find some way to show

xxx

That despite our differences,

How I trip and you glide,

We're like oil and water, but

I still need you by my side.

xxx

These feelings, they're strange.

One moment love, then a fist to your face.

We got close, like brothers.

Ma would say show some grace.

xxx

I offer my apology, 'cause envy's so ugly.

And for how awful I've been to you.

You deserve her, and your life

And all you've got. Just hoping for it, too.

XXX

An easy silence fell over the room, but then Vin quickly started to fidget. _'He must not have liked it,'_ Vin thought. _'Again, the wrong damn words.'_

Ezra's eyes burned with the effort to prevent his tears. He looked up and saw his friend's worried visage.

"Ah trust that Ah assume correctly that this effort will not be placed in competition in Missus Travis' daily?" he asked, hoping the light tone would help him to avoid embarrassing himself.

Vin lowered his head. "Yeah, it's not my best." The tracker raised his head at the gasp from his friend.

"Ah don't know who you are tryin' to fool, Vin. It … well, Ah am nearly speechless at hearing these words." A tear finally managed to escape from one eye. Ezra wiped it away, no attempt was made to hide the action. "It is precisely what Ah needed to hear."

"It is?" Vin asked softly. He added, "Does that mean ya accept my apology?"

"Ah do, indeed. Ah disagree with some of it; Ah do not feel we are so different. And Ah have no doubt that you will find your special someone. It took me mah entire life to find mine, though some might say Ah would do best to keep lookin'."

"Nah, you two are meant to be."

"So you are sayin' Ah was meant to suffer?"

"You'll figure it out."

"That is not particularly helpful to mah cause, Vin." The former bounty hunter smiled widely, his eyes alight. "Is mah predicament with Inez amusin' to you?"

"No. But ya called me Vin."

"Vin. It is a fine name. Vincent … Vin."

"No, Ez. Ya didn't call me 'Mistah Tanner'," the longhaired lawman said in his best southern accent.

"Oh. Well, as you so wisely said, friends call themselves by their first names."

"Damn straight."

"Indeed. So," Ezra said as he listened closely for footsteps in the hallway, "now that we are friends once more, Ah will need to enlist your assistance in diverting any attempts by Nathan or Chris to manipulate mah diet or restrict mah intake of libations of the alcoholic kind."

"Why would they do somethin' like that?"

"Ah overheard conversation," the former con man allowed.

"Well, Ezra, I'd like to help you, but if that was ta happen, I'm sure they'd only do it fer yer own good."

Ezra had assumed compliance well before Vin finished his thought. "Ah know that … what? Wh … Why you … traitor. You … "

"Calm yer damn self down. If ya do this right, and do it on yer own, you'll be in better shape. They want ta do this 'cause o' yer headaches?"

"Yes."

"Then mix things up some. Eat better," he said. Ezra rolled his eyes. "and I don't mean less. More beans and vegetables. I know ya ask Inez fer more cheese when she's got it. Don't do that." Ezra glared at his friend. "Fer a while." Take a night or two off from drinkin'." The card sharp was fuming silently now. "It ain't gonna kill ya."

"Ah … ah suppose that might hold them at bay." He looked at his friend. "Wise council. Thank you."

"Happy ta help. I gotta go. Got patrol." Vin offered his arm to his friend. Ezra reached his own. They shook as friends, using the shake that Ezra had seen Vin and Chris share any number of times. It was not one with which Ezra had any comfort; it reminded him of the handshakes he'd read about during the time of the ancient Greeks or Romans. He felt it a better way to depart; he felt it meant more than the more reserved and often uncomfortable modern handshake. As they started to separate, Vin held on longer, leaned in and whispered, "I really am sorry."

Ezra blinked rapidly again as he looked deeply into the blue pools that Vin's eyes looked so much like up close. "Ah know. Ah appreciate that."

"All right. Gotta go."

"Be careful out there," Ezra called as Vin closed the door behind him. The leather-covered arm waved as the door closed.

Chris and Nathan were seated downstairs. Vin joined them.

"How is he?" Nathan asked.

"Seems good. A little sore. Head don't seem to be botherin' him."

"You two work things out?" Chris asked.

"Yep."

"Good."

"And what about … "

"Got him to agree to eat better, take a day or two off each week from drinkin'."

"You did?" Chris asked.

"Ain't givin' no guarantee on how long that'll last. He figured it's better'n havin' you two up his behind all the time."

"Is that how you presented it to him?" Chris asked.

"Actually, he brought it up. Wanted me ta go in cahoots with him to keep you two from knowin' his business."

"Huh," the healer said.

"And that's when I told him he'd do better if what he did next was more his idea."

"Clever," Chris said.

"We'll keep an eye on 'im fer a while." Vin drank down the shot that Chris had poured for him. "He'll probably find himself feelin' better b'fore he knows it. And he'll like that. And then it'll be like normal." He smiled then stood to leave.

"Thanks for helpin', Vin," Nathan said. The tracker waved his hand and left the saloon. Inez watched him leave, a relieved smile on her face.

"That's good," Chris said to Nathan.

"It is," Nathan agreed. The black man looked over to the bar, where he saw Inez walking around the back and into the kitchen. "Guess that should be the next thing we work on."

Chris groaned. "Let's take a break before we tackle that one."

"You'll get no complaints from me," the healer said as he picked up his drink. The two men clinked their glasses together and were interrupted from taking a taste of their drinks by the whoosh of skirt at their table.

"So, señors, what are you drinking to?"

The End.


End file.
